Art Through The Ages
by ShiroiKarasuX
Summary: Follow Roderich and Gilbert as they travel through time, visiting the Prehistory, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance and the Baroque. They discuss statues, theaters, architecture, paintings and more. However, this turns out more difficult than they ever expected...
1. Chapter 1

_**Dear reader** , before you start reading, I'd like to explain the reason why I wrote this story. I got an assignment for school, which stated that I had to make a timeline of art, in whichever form we pleased. It had to be educational for others, for example: students in a classroom. I thought to myself: 'A classroom? Nah, too small. I want to teach the whole world! Haha!'_

 _So that's what I did. Most Hetalians are already interested in history and I thought this was the perfect chance to teach you guys something about art as well. If you learned something new, a review would be greatly appreciated. Have fun reading!_

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 _ **To my teachers** : Hetalia is a series in which each character represents a country. They were also given human names. Roderich represents Austria (a country that greatly appreciates art and therefore has a lot of knowledge about it) and Gilbert represents Prussia (a country that was seen as a hooligan that did nothing but fight). I thought the two would make an interesting combo._

 _Since this is a fanfiction, there are some Hetalia jokes you may not get, or names that are unfamiliar to you. My apologies for this. I hope you'll enjoy reading my story nonetheless._

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On my profile you'll find a link to a Google Document, in which you'll find a handy overview of all the things Gilbert and Roderich have investigated, with pictures!  


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 **Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, not to me.**

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 **Chapter 1  
**

''Well, let's get to it, then,'' Roderich sighed as he ushered for Gilbert to follow him. He had set the time on the MTTD {Multidimensional Time Travel Device} to approximately 15OOO BC. This device allowed them to take a look around at any place and time in the past, but they wouldn't be visible to anyone living there. They would be like ghosts from the future.

He fumbled with the controls for a bit and before they knew it, they were looking at the entrance of a cave. Not just a cave, but the very cave that would be called 'The Lascaux Cave' in the far future.

''Why are we doing this again?'' Gilbert asked as they stepped inside.

''Ludwig assigned us the task of writing the report on art throughout the centuries. Well, the report will write itself, as the MTTD collects the information automatically. He wants us to check everything in the original time to make sure that the information in history books is correct. That's what our whole organization was founded on, you idiot.''

''Hey, no need to get snappy at me, Specs,'' Gilbert retorted. ''I know that. I was just wondering, why art of all things? It's boring! Couldn't we investigate wars or something?''

''He probably knows that you're in desperate need of education on culture,'' Roderich said, a smirk appearing on his face. This smirk was soon replaced with a frown, however, as they reached the center of the cave. The sight was breathtaking. Their flashlights illuminated the ceiling and walls, which were full of painted animals: equines, stags, felines, bisons and even a human.

But something wasn't right. A lot of animals simply weren't there. There should have been over 2OOO figures, but not nearly all animals were visible, although there were a few human figures on some of the walls.

''I suppose they haven't drawn all of the animals yet,'' he declared. ''It must've taken them years to get all of the walls and ceiling covered. Did you know that the concept 'art' was nonexistent at the time? These figures might have been drawn with charcoal and colored minerals, but we still haven't figured out for what exact reason they were made. Researchers theorize that these paintings could be an account of past hunting successes, or they could represent a ritual in order to improve further hunting endeavors. Although, some people say that these symbols, here, represent the stars,'' he added, while pointing to a couple of dots. ''That could mean that the people that lived in this era knew something about astronomy.''

''So, this is the original one? Impressive,'' Gilbert said as he walked along the cave, completely ignoring the Austrian's monologue.

Roderich's eyebrows shot up. ''Original one?''

The Prussian stopped and turned to face him. ''Yeah, they build a replica of the whole cave because the original one was being threatened by some sort of mold or fungus. The town still needed the tourism, though, so they just build another cave.''

''And how do you know all this?'' Roderich asked, dumbfounded.

''Oh, I visited this place with Francis once,'' Gilbert said with a wave of his hand, his interest in the conversation already lost. ''Is this also where they found that super old statue of a fat woman?''

Roderich's newfound respect for the man's knowledge disappeared immediately.

''We're in France, you fool!'' he fumed. ''You're talking about the Venus of Willendorf, which was found in Austria. It's one of the oldest artifacts ever found and dates between 24OOO and 22OOO BC, making it one of the most famous surviving works of art. It's exactly 11,1 cm high and researchers think it resembles a pregnant woman, that had a function related to fertility. Also–''

''I wish I could be that passionate about an old stone in the shape of a fat woman,'' Gilbert interrupted him, grinning.

''Well, it was found in my homeland, after all,'' Roderich mumbled, already regretting his outburst. He straightened himself and looked at his watch. ''If we're done here, I'd like to move on. We have a whole list of art to go through and only so little time.''

Gilbert sighed, but agreed and took the MTTD out of Roderich's hands. He fumbled with the buttons for a bit and his eyes bulged when he saw their next destination. ''Stonehenge? That's in England, right? Who knows, we might run into Arthur!''

''He wasn't born yet,'' Roderich said, wondering how a man could be so stupid. ''We're traveling to 15OO BC, although they've been building Stonehenge since 3OOO BC.''

''Right,'' Gilbert said, absentmindedly. He pressed the touchscreen and suddenly they were standing on a windy plain in Wiltshire. Before them, they could see what would become one of the most famous monuments of their time. It was an impressive sight: the massive stones set up in circles and in the shape of a horseshoe, all balanced on top of one another; the circular patterns further down the landscape; the shrines that were scattered around the plains…

''Seems like we're not alone,'' Gilbert pointed out. A lot of people could be seen working and talking with each other. Some even seemed to be doing rituals.

Roderich nodded. ''Yes, I can see. Pity we need to hold our distance.''

''What? Can't we go and see what they're all doing? This could be our chance to solve this mystery once and for all!''

''As much as I want to agree with you, that simply isn't our job. We were given the art department, the department of mysteries hasn't been organized yet. Not in this universe, anyway,'' he added under his breath.

Gilbert sighed and took a few steps back. ''Those stones are massive, though.''

''Quite,'' the Austrian agreed. ''Did you know that the bigger ones are called sarsens, while the smaller ones are called bluestones?''

''But they're not even blue!''

''Not at the moment, no. They get a blue hue to them when they're wet. Also, do you see those walls of earth? Those are barely visible in our time, completely eroded by nature.''

Both men walked a little along the plain, but stopped when Gilbert saw something that piqued his interest.

''This looks like a grave,'' Gilbert said enthusiastically, pointing at a patch of earth that seemed to be smoothed out a little more than the surrounding area.

''It very well could be. Up until five hundred years ago, this place was a burial ground,'' Roderich commented.

''Awesome.''

''In our time, a forensic reconstruction was made, based on the bones of a man that was found here. Who knows, maybe it's this man. If you're interested, maybe we could visit the ruins someday.''

Gilbert looked up, smirking. ''Us? Together? Ah, I knew you had a soft spot for me, Specs.''

''Y-you know that's not how I meant it!'' Roderich snapped. ''It was just a suggestion! Just because you don't–''

''Roddy,'' Gilbert interrupted. ''I'm kidding. It's fine.'' He had his back turned to the other man, so he wouldn't be able to see him blush.

Roderich thought it would be best if he changed the subject, so he started babbling about the possible theories surrounding Stonehenge. ''And did you know that the stones are positioned in such a way that they face the midsummer rise and midwinter sunset? All this land was considered sacred in the Neolithic culture.''

''Nope.''

Roderich turned around. ''What do you mean, 'nope'?''

Gilbert looked at him like it was obvious. ''Nope, as in, 'Nope, I didn't know that.' What did you expect?''

Roderich's shoulders sagged a bit further as he sighed in exasperation. ''Nothing. Let's move on.''

''Already?''

''We have a tight schedule, Gilbert.''

''We have all the time in the world! Literally!''

Roderich decided to ignore the man and was already busy finding their new destination on the MTTD. Gilbert looked over his shoulder. ''Egypt?''

''Apparently, yes. Let's go.''

He tapped the device and the next moment they were surrounded by sand. In front of them, they saw the pyramids of Giza, together with the Great Sphinx, its nose still intact. It was the year 255O BC and people were still building the pyramid, which would be finished in about ten years.

''Cool,'' Gilbert said. ''I've never been in the desert before.''

''Well,'' Roderich began, ''We're only about nine kilometers into the Libyan Desert, but the cultivated Nile valley is nearby. As we see, the pyramids are build close to Cairo, the biggest city at the moment. These pyramids belong to the Seven Wonders of the world and is, by far, the oldest.''

Gilbert was already looking at a worker, who was smoothing out the surface of a stone to make it fit perfectly.

''Hey,'' he started, although he knew that the man wouldn't be able to hear him. Gilbert looked up at Roderich instead. ''That's not how the stones look in our time.''

The Austrian nodded. ''In our time, the stones have eroded. This man is making sure that everything stays symmetrical by modifying the stone in a way that its height and width are the same. During construction, which is what we're witnessing right now, the outer surface of the stone was smooth, white limestone.''

''Interesting,'' Gilbert murmured as he moved on to another worker. ''And what's this guy doing?''

''He seems to be making paint.''

''But why?''

''To color the Sphinx, probably. It might look finished as it is, but in our time we found out that it was once colored in very bright colors. Traces were found on the statue, which is one of the oldest and largest statues still intact, by the way.''

Gilbert laughed. ''And Napoleon's soldiers shot his nose off, right?''

Roderich crossed his arms. ''Contrary to popular belief, no, I'm afraid that's not the case. Sketches of the Sphinx by the Dane Frederic Louis Norden, made in 1738, show that the Sphinx is already missing its nose there. Napoleon was born in 1769. Sorry to disappoint you.''

The Prussian shrugged and took another look at the pyramids. ''They're graves, right?''

''Yes,'' Roderich confirmed, pointing to the biggest pyramid of the complex. ''This particular pyramid is being built for the pharaoh Khufu, I believe. It will take them another ten years to finish it, though. They're building at least three different chambers inside the pyramid and a lot of surrounding buildings, including two mortuary temples in honor of Khufu and three smaller pyramids for his wives.''

''He had three wives?''

''The royal family was quite large, actually. He might have had even more, I'm not sure. I do know, however, that he had a lot of brothers, sisters, children and even grandchildren, although we don't know if they're also buried here.''

Gilbert hummed and walked along. They could see the workers carrying out their tasks, such as sculpting and moving stones, but there were also people that provided food and carried water. Just outside the wall surrounding the complex, there appeared to be a town where the workers were housed.

''Hey, I've read about this!'' Gilbert beamed, glad he could finally share some of his knowledge. ''In our time, archaeologists dug all of this up and it turns out the whole layout for the town was planned from the start! They found sleeping quarters, bakeries, breweries, kitchens and even a hospital where–''

He got interrupted by a loud crack to his right and he jumped away as one of the workers crashed through a platform that was raised high above the ground. He hit the ground with a loud thump and continued to lay still as he got surrounded by other workers.

Gilbert visibly swallowed. ''Er… Good thing they've also discovered a cemetery.''

They hurried away from the site and all but ran back to the pyramids, although there was no need for them to run: they were invisible to the workers, after all.

After they'd caught their breath, Gilbert asked, quite suddenly: ''But should this even be considered art?''

''What do you mean?''

''You just told me that these pyramids were built to bury kings and all that–''

''Pharaohs.''

''Yeah, whatever. But what I mean to say is, these things had a purpose and were built solely for that purpose. The shape, size, function… All calculated. I thought art was about beauty and yes, we can think they're pretty, but that doesn't mean it's art, right?''

Roderich adjusted his glasses and considered this for a moment. ''I suppose. I've never really thought about it that way. Most of the 'art' that was made in this time was a symbol or representation for their beliefs, although some art served for people's social or economic status.''

''Some food for thought, then,'' Gilbert mumbled.

''Certainly.'' Roderich looked around once more. ''I think the MTTD has gathered enough information right about now. How about we go on to… Oh!'' He perked up a bit. ''Ancient Greece.''

''Nice,'' Gilbert said, sarcastically. ''Bearded guys talking about philosophical and governmental stuff. Not to mention, too many gods to remember and–''

''Striving economy, language and development in politics,'' Roderich finished sternly. ''Come on, off we go.''

He fumbled with the MTTD for a moment and soon the sounds of chisels were replaced by the sound of someone singing.

''It seems,'' Roderich said as they took in the scene before them, ''That we've landed ourselves in the middle of a theater performance.''

They were standing at the top of an amphitheater, filled to the brim with an enthusiastic audience. In the distance, they could see some other activities, although the streets were almost deserted: everyone was attending the performance.

''When are we?'' Gilbert asked.

''Athens, which– Oh, when? 534 BC,'' Roderich answered. ''They're having a festival to honor the God Dyonisius. And that man,'' he said, pointing at the man on stage, ''Is going to win the competition for tragedy.''

''Really?'' The Prussian frowned. ''I've seen better performances. Who is he?''

''Thespis, who was reputedly the first actor to perform in Greek theater as an individual character instead of as part of a chorus. He introduced the style of theater known as tragedy and was also the first actor to travel from city to city on theatrical tours. As we see, he's singing about Greek mythology. Instead of remaining with the chorus, he'll step out and perform all the individual roles by himself.''

''That's some multitasking, man. But won't the audience recognize him?''

''He'll differentiate between characters by wearing masks,'' Roderich said, looking at Thespis, who was doing just that. ''He's not only the hero of the story, but plays many different characters.''

Gilbert snickered. ''The hero? Don't let Alfred hear you or we'll get another speech.''

''It's funny because it's true,'' Roderich commented dryly, taking out the MTTD again and pressing a few buttons. The scene around them changed and Gilbert jumped in surprise, earning a sigh from Roderich. ''I just fast-forwarded a few years,'' he said. ''It's currently the year 432 BC.''

He turned to look at the silhouette of a building in the distance. ''Now, Gilbert, tell me you recognize that building. If you don't, I'll throw you from the top of the amphitheater.''

''Er…'' Gilbert began, nervously. He squinted at the building that was placed on a higher point, looming over the city. Suddenly his face brightened. ''The Pantheon!'' he declared, his voice full of confidence and triumph.

Roderich stared, not amused. Gilbert's smile didn't waver.

''Close enough,'' the Austrian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ''It's the Parthenon.''

''What's the difference?'' Gilbert asked with a little wave of his hand.

''Nothing,'' Roderich grumbled, eyebrow twitching. ''Only 312 years and a whole different culture, city, and… Oh, never mind.''

Gilbert had already moved to take a closer look at the temple and Roderich followed close behind. After a little hike, they had reached their destination.

''So, get on with it, Roddy,'' the Prussian said, grimacing. ''Say what you have to say.''

''Fine,'' Roderich huffed. ''As I said earlier, this is the Parthenon. It's a temple dedicated to the goddess Athena. It took over ten years to build, although people kept adding decorations until 432 BC, which is this year. The style is Doric, although it does have some Ionic architectural features. The decorative sculptures are considered some of the high points of Greek art. From afar, the pillars look straight, due to a slight swelling in the center of the columns. This optical illusion was legendary,'' he explained.

''Whatever,'' Gilbert mumbled. ''I wanna go inside.''

He stormed off and before Roderich knew, he was being pulled along with the other man, entering the temple. They were now standing in one of the two rooms of the Cella, which contained a statue of a beautiful woman. A reflecting pool was placed in front of her.

''Gilbert! Let go off me!''

''Don't shout in a temple, Roddy. Show some respect,'' Gilbert whispered, a big smirk appearing on his face.

Roderich blushed and shook Gilbert's hand off of his arm. ''Idiot,'' he snapped back, his voice a little more quiet this time. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. ''This is a statue of Athena. It's a sculpture in what I believe to be the classical style, but I could be wrong. Before the classical period came the Archaic one, which was much more simplistic, and after the classical period came one where most art was Hellenistic. During this period, art became much more realistic and expressive. A good example is 'Laocoön and His Sons'. I'm sure you've seen it.''

''Is that the one with that muscular guy strangling a snake or something?''

''Exactly! Very good,'' Roderich replied, pleasantly surprised. ''But let's get back to Athena. Did you know that the gold from this particular statue will be removed in 296 BC, because the tyrant Lachares needed it to pay his army?''

Gilbert flashed a grin at that last statement. ''Ah, this story is finally getting interesting.''

''You wish,'' Roderich said. ''We're talking about art and culture here, not war.'' He ignored Gilbert's protests and went on with his story. ''We're standing in what's called the Hekatompedon – I hope I pronounced that correctly – and what we're seeing in front of Athena here is not just for decoration, although most uncultured people, like you, think it is. The water in the pool is there to add humidity to air and prevent splitting of the ivory elements of the statue. Most temples have a pool for that particular purpose.''

''Alright. But hey, I thought there would be more people in here, but there's not that many. Why?'' Gilbert asked.

Roderich had to think about that for a moment. ''Well, it is a very busy society,'' he pondered. ''The Greek culture was a rich one, and although the term 'culture' didn't exist yet, they did have what they called 'paideia', which means something like 'education'. They mainly focused on education in society, of course. If people were educated properly, they would be an ideal member of the polis, 'polis' meaning 'city'. The aristocratic order of the polis would get schooled in liberal arts, like rhetorics, grammar and philosophy–''

''Sounds like you'd fit right in, Specs!''

''–as well as scientific disciplines like arithmetic and medicine,'' Roderich continued, glaring at the other man. ''An ideal member of the polis would possess intellectual, moral and physical refinement.''

''Oh, never mind, then. They can count you out.''

''Thank you very much for your input, Gilbert,'' Roderich mocked, eyebrows furrowed in irritation. He turned on his heel and started striding towards the exit, when he heard the man apologize quietly from somewhere behind him. He stopped to looked at the Prussian. ''Did I hear that correctly or are my ears deceiving me?''

Gilbert shot him a glare. ''I can still take it back.''

Roderich walked along, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ''You know, that reminds me of something. The Allegory of the Cave, also called Plato's Cave. Plato's mentor, Socrates, was the one who said that there are three types of beauty: ideal, spiritual and functional beauty. You must have heard of him, right?''

''What if I have?'' Gilbert grumbled, trudging after him.

''Well, Plato describes a group of people who have lived chained to a wall of a cave all of their lives, facing a blank wall. They watch shadows projected on the wall from objects passing in front of a fire behind them. These shadows are the prisoners' reality. According to Socrates, a philosopher is like a prisoner who's freed from the cave and comes to understand that the shadows on the wall are not reality at all, for he can perceive the true form of reality, rather than the 'reality' that is seen by the prisoners. Still following?''

''I think so. But how do I remind you of… that?''

Roderich smiled. ''I think you just showed me a piece of the true you.''

Gilbert immediately flushed and took the MTTD out of the Austrian's hands. ''I-I think we're done here.''

Roderich chuckled. ''Sure. What's our next stop?''

Both men looked at the screen, which said: 'Rome'. Roderich cursed quietly, which earned him a surprised look from the other man. ''What? Not that fond of Italy?''

''It's not that. Italy is a great country… but I'm afraid I don't know that much about the Roman Empire.''

''Well,'' Gilbert said, proudly. ''Good thing I do. Let's see then…'' He pressed the button and off they went. Suddenly, the sun disappeared: they were standing in a huge shadow, casted by none other than the Colosseum.

''Ah,'' Roderich said, relieved that he recognized the building. ''The Colosseum, or as they said around this time: Amphitheatrum Flavium, because it was built in the Flavian dynasty. It's the largest amphitheater ever built and it took them quite some time: from the year 72 to 8O.''

Gilbert shot him an annoyed look. ''I thought you said you didn't knew jack sh–''

''Everyone knows the Colosseum,'' Roderich interrupted. ''Did you know that it could hold between and spectators?''

''Yes, I did,'' Gilbert shot back. ''Did you know that it was used not only for gladiatorial contests, but also for public spectacles such as mock sea battles, executions, re-enactments of famous battles and– ''

''Dramas based on classical mythology? Why, yes, I did,'' Roderich said arrogantly. ''How about the fact that the arcades are framed by half-columns of the Doric, Ionic and Corinthian orders, and that the attic is decorated with Corinthian pilasters?''

''Er… well…''

''And that it is called the Colosseum because of a colossal statue of Nero, nearby? Although, his head was replaced several times with that of other emperors. I wonder why…''

Gilbert straightened himself and put his hands on his sides. ''Yes, Roddy, I wonder why,'' he mocked. ''You're lucky to have me, and not just because I'm awesome, but also because I can answer your question.''

The Austrian rolled his eyes. ''Fine. Spit it out.''

''Alright! Here we go. Nero once ruled over the Roman Empire and that's why they made a statue of him. They always made statues of the emperors, so everyone in the Empire would know who they were. They were almost seen like gods. Of course, Rome was the center of it all, so it had one of the biggest statues. There was a time when a Roman guy said some Latin stuff–''

''Oh, did he now?''

''And it translates to something like ''When Rome falls, so falls the world','' Gilbert said. ''But to answer your question: they replaced the head because they were lazy.''

''I'm fairly certain that wasn't the case,'' Roderich scolded.

''Nah, I'm just messing around. Those statues were just super expensive. Simple as that. They were all colored as well, you know? When we think of sculptures from ancient times, we probably think of white marble, but in our time, they've found traces of paint and gold on them, so we can say for sure that they were colored a long time ago.''

Although Roderich knew this already, he was still astonished at the man's knowledge. Just moments ago, he'd thought the man knew next to nothing about culture or art. ''How do you know all this, Gilbert?''

''Because I'm old and wise,'' he shrugged, as if that explained everything. He started walking towards the city's center.

Roderich, not following the man's logic in the slightest, decided to drop the subject and focused on Gilbert instead, as to not lose him in the crowd. ''Gil! Where are you going?''

''Well, you know what they say,'' Gilbert shouted back. ''When in Rome, do as the Romans do!''

Since Rome was a cosmopolitan city with Greek, Spaniards, Britons and a lot of other nationalities, a lot of languages could be heard while they roamed the streets. They could see men working at various trades, for example bakers, carpenters and fishmongers. A few women were seen working as hairdressers or dressmakers. Not everyone looked that happy with their job, though. A lot of the menial jobs were performed by slaves, as well as many of the professions such as doctors, teachers and architects.

''The majority of Roman citizens lived in these apartment buildings,'' Gilbert explained, pointing animatedly at everything around him, almost poking Roderich's eye out. ''They were also called 'insulae' and most of them were over-crowded and extremely dangerous. There was always a chance of fire or collapse, which caused the people to live in fear. Help couldn't be given easily, and the government couldn't care less about that. Designing straight or wide streets? Nope! These unpaved streets are really narrow. They changed that after the great fire under Emperor Nero, because only after the fire, the streets were widened. They also built balconies, so people could escape more easily.''

''I didn't know that. I've read somewhere that they had a sewer system, correct?'' Roderich asked.

''Yep, although it only first appeared in the sixth century BC. Also, the upper floors of these apartments couldn't use it. Only the lower floors, where the rich people lived, had running water and indoor toilets. Let's just say that the poorest citizens had the best view of the city,'' Gilbert said, laughing.

Roderich nodded and looked up at one of the buildings. ''The architecture was certainly exquisite. You often came across semi-circular arches and small paired windows. Most of the buildings had a robust appearance and in later eras this style would change to Gothic.''

Gilbert kept up his smile. ''I don't care.''

Roderich swatted at the man's arm, who tried to avoid him by jumping away, doing a little dance in the progress. Roderich shook his head and said. ''Cultura animi.''

''What? Cultured anime?'' Gilbert blurted out, confused by the sudden Latin.

''It means 'Cultivation of the soul' and it's part of a quote from Cicero. You should read his work some time, would be good for you. The quote perfectly describes how Romans thought about Greek culture and education, which they respected greatly. You can see it in their theater, sculptures and paintings, but mostly in their architecture, of course.''

''Sounds incredibly boring.''

Roderich threw his hands up in the air, decided to give up on trying to educate the Prussian and stopped for a moment to look around. It seemed to be late in the afternoon and the sky was colored with orange and pink streaks. This part of the city was a little more quiet, and gave the men a nice break from the busy life within the city.

''You know, this is actually pretty fun,'' Gilbert said suddenly. ''Seeing all this old stuff… I mean, we know so many stories from the past, but so little were written down. Well, they're written down now, in our time, but you know what I mean.''

''Not exactly. Please, elaborate,'' Roderich said, frowning.

''How to explain this… Er, you know the Alexander Sarcophagus?''

Roderich was taken aback. ''Yes. I'm kind of surprised that you do, to be honest.''

Gilbert looked at him triumphantly. ''Don't underestimate me, Roddy. But to get back to topic, that sarcophagus had these relief carvings of Alexander the Great. Er, when was it made, again?'' He looked questioningly at Roderich.

''I believe it was somewhere in the 4th century BC,'' the man replied. ''In the Hellenistic style.''

''Okay. Well, we know a lot about this Alexander guy, right? It was such a long time ago, so how do we know? They didn't write everything down. What I mean is, we can tell a lot by just looking at his sarcophagus. Those reliefs tell the stories! You can see him hunting lions with his alliances and see him fight the Persians. How cool is that?''

''Ah, I think I understand now.''

''You better, I'm not gonna repeat myself,'' Gilbert chuckled. ''I just think that history isn't merely told in words, but mostly in images. We're still finding artifacts from the past and every little thing is another piece of the puzzle.''

Roderich found himself impressed by the way the man was thinking. ''Is that why you don't want to read about history?''

Gilbert turned and looked at him indignantly. ''I do read about history, just not your old dusty books about art. You can ask me all about war and vital regions of important countries, but I'm just not that interested in old statues and paintings. Although,'' he added, ''I must admit that I'm getting more interested in architecture and theater, especially because I didn't really think of them as art before now.''

''I'm glad to hear that,'' Roderich said, smiling. ''Well, not about the fact that you didn't consider them as art, but that you're finally realizing that art can be interesting.''

''Don't blow it out of proportions, Roddy,'' Gilbert huffed. ''I'm still not as thrilled about a piece of rock as you can be at times.''

''Right, right. You'll learn,'' the Austrian said, laughing. ''And I hate to break it to you, but it's time for us to go to our last destination for today, which is the Middle Ages, if I recall correctly.''

''Oh,'' Gilbert said, pouting a little bit. ''Last one?''

''Yes, only one more to go and we're done,'' Roderich said, pressing the button and thus changing the scene abruptly. ''Here we are.''

They were standing in the back of a Catholic church. Roderich immediately noticed the splendid architecture. After all, the better and richer the church looked, the more they believed it was praising God.

''Did we have to appear inside a church?'' Gilbert whispered, as to not disturb the men in front of them, who were bowing and chanting psalms.

''What are you whispering for? They can't hear us,'' Roderich said. He narrowed his eyes and looked at the other man, who appeared a little nervous all of a sudden. ''Wait a minute… Gilbert, are you religious?''

''W-what if I am?'' Gilbert stammered. ''Nothing wrong with that. Probably means I know more about this era than you do.''

''Alright,'' the Austrian said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. ''Tell me all you know,'' he demanded.

Gilbert took a deep breath. ''Well, when the Roman Empire fell some years ago, Germanic peoples took over pretty much all of Europe. They called them barbarians,'' he grimaced. ''Roman temples were converted into churches. There's even a sarcophagus which shows Jesus standing on a Roman God.

''There was a long time period in which people lived without laws. There was a lot of violence and because of both cultural and economic deterioration, people lived in an agriculture. Don't ask me how we know all this, because there was a scarcity of written record.

''People generally lived poor lives and were scared pretty much all of the time. Not only they were scared of the church, who made them fear God with stuff like 'memento mori', which basically meant that you need to dedicate your whole life to God or you'll land in hell–''

''I'm sure that's not exactly what they–''

''I wasn't done yet,'' Gilbert said sternly. ''People were also scared of invasions. There was a constant threat from Vikings, Saracens an Hungarians. Now, let me tell you, I know a Hungarian and those are badass.''

''Oh, trust me, I know,'' Roderich murmured.

''Now, there was one smart guy who thought this was a stupid way of living. That guy was king Charlemagne and he unified his empire. That way, he had a bit more control over his people. He even had people working for his people, which was how they kept some sense of stability. That was called, er…''

''Feudalism,'' Roderich provided.

Gilbert pointed at him, enthusiastically. ''Yes, that! There were three social classes. The church was the most important one, then came the nobles and knights and lastly the peasants. The peasants made up, like, ninety percent of the whole population, but apparently they weren't seen as anything important. They did the dirty jobs, so the other classes could lead a rich life. Most of them weren't schooled, either, so they couldn't even read. They let the church think for them, the idiots.'' He shook his head.

Roderich hadn't moved an inch during the man's monologue. ''You're right,'' he said, making Gilbert look up at him. ''You do seem to know a lot about the Middle Ages. I-I'm impressed, actually.''

Gilbert flashed him the biggest grin he'd seen so far. ''Told ya,'' he said proudly, earning him a small smile from Roderich, who then decided to turn his attention to the church again, asking himself: ''Why do people sing in church?''

Gilbert knew the answer. ''They believe that the people and angels in heaven are always singing. They want to be as close to heaven as humanly possible and that's why they sing. The closer to God, the better. That's also why they designed the church like this, with all those high windows. Light was considered holy.''

Roderich hummed to show he understood and asked what the men were singing about.

Gilbert seemed to listen intently, a concentrated look on his face. Roderich wondered how a man could change so fast. He seldom saw this more serious side of the Prussian.

''It's a Gregorian chant,'' Gilbert declared after a minute. ''They're singing phrases from the Bible, in Latin, I think. It is sung monophonic, which means that there's only a melody without chords or accompanying harmony, which came years and years later,'' he explained thoughtfully, before looking at Roderich and seeing the shocked expression on the man's face. ''What? Was I wrong?''

N-no,'' the Austrian stuttered, flabbergasted. ''You just– I mean– Every time I try to teach you something related to music, you act like a five year old and find another way to annoy me!'' he blurted out.

''Er, that's because most of the time I already know everything you're telling me,'' Gilbert said, awkwardly running a hand through his hair.

''Are you kidding me? You could've at least told me!'' Roderich fretted, exasperated.

''Roddy, calm down,'' Gilbert tried, stifling a laugh behind his hand. ''Let's step outside for a moment, alright?'' He walked towards the entrance of the church and made his way out, Roderich trailing a little behind, muttering angrily to himself all the while.

After walking around town for a bit, the men found out that there was a traveling theater a few blocks away. They hurried to join the crowd and this time, it was Roderich who had some information to share.

''This sort of theater was very common in medieval Europe,'' he began, still a bit grumpily. ''It was understandable for the peasants, as most of them didn't speak Latin. These theaters showed them scenes from the Bible, mostly about Jesus. The moral of the story was very important to them and although this form of theater was very simple, they did have quite the influence. So much, even, that they weren't allowed to perform inside the church anymore, but had to do it on the streets.''

''Which is exactly what we're looking at right now,'' Gilbert finished. He already knew the story they were performing, however, and got bored pretty quickly. ''Hey, what about statues?''

''Beg your pardon?'' Roderich asked, caught off guard by the random question.

''Everywhere we've been so far we've seen statues or sculptures or whatever.''

''There were statues inside the church,'' Roderich suggested.

''Those do not count. They're basically part of the building. What about paintings?''

Roderich smirked. ''Finally getting interested?''

''Sure,'' Gilbert deadpanned.

Roderich thought hard for a moment and he perked up a bit when he got an idea. ''Almost every painting that was made around this time had a didactic function, meaning that it would teach people something, especially the ones that weren't schooled. That's why you'll find most statues in and around churches.''

He sighed. ''How about we continue our trip tomorrow? We've been traveling for hours now and I could do with some rest. I think the MTTD has picked up enough information. I'll send the data to Ludwig as soon as we're back.''

Gilbert stepped towards him and ruffled his hair. ''Aw, is little Roddy tired already?''

''D-don't do that!'' Roderich yelped, flustered, swatting at his hands.

Gilbert laughed and threw his arm around the man's shoulder. Roderich was too surprised by the motion to realize that the man had grabbed the MTTD and was now pressing the button, sending them both back to the present. The next moment, they were standing in their office.

Roderich freed himself from the Prussian's embrace and tiredly collapsed in a nearby chair.

''So,'' Gilbert said. ''Tomorrow, huh?''

''Tomorrow,'' Roderich repeated.

''Alright,'' the man smirked. ''It's a date.''

* * *

 _To be continued, maybe…_

* * *

Sources

My notes

Algemene Kunstgeschiedenis – Hugh Honour & John Fleming

Several Wikipedia sites

Cracked dot com

History dot com

AncientGreece dot com

Ancient dot eu / Rome

HistoryLearningSite dot co dot uk

Medieval-life-and-times dot info / medieval-art


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, not to me.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

''You're late.''

''And a very good morning to you too, Specs,'' Gilbert said, putting a cup of coffee in front of Roderich, who looked up, his irritated expression quickly changing into a surprised one. ''Brought you some coffee.''

''Oh,'' the Austrian stammered. ''T-thank you.'' He sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. ''Is that the reason why you're late?''

''Yep,'' Gilbert said, leaving out the fact that he overslept, got yelled at by his brother for it and failed to catch the bus, which caused him to take his bike to work instead. He sat down behind his desk, nipping at his own coffee.

''Well,'' Roderich said, ''I appreciate it, but please make sure that you're on time tomorrow.''

''Of course,'' Gilbert smirked, glad that he got off so easily: he was seldom on time. He twirled around in his office chair for a bit, waiting impatiently for Roderich to finish both his coffee and whatever paperwork he was doing. ''Almost done?''

''Not yet,'' the man mumbled, not even looking up from his work. ''Why don't you go ahead and check up on the development department? They made some changes to the MTTD last night, I believe. I'll catch up with you.''

''Fine,'' Gilbert sighed. He left the office and walked down the stairs towards the lower workfloor, where his colleagues were already bustling about. As soon as he entered the development section, he got spotted by Mathias, who waved enthusiastically and motioned for him to come over.

The long table in front of the man was scattered with small machines, metal parts from who-knows-what and at least a dozen different sketches of devices, equations scribbled hastily over them. The Dane himself was bouncing up and down like a madman – which, Gilbert had decided long ago, he was.

''Gil, my man!'' Mathias said enthusiastically. ''Come here, see what we did! We've been working on this all night!''

He led the Prussian to a room behind him. It was clean and white, just like the office Roderich and he worked in. Jumping from foot to foot, Mathias pointed to the – completely empty – room before them.

''Er…'' Gilbert began, wondering if Mathias had gone mad for real this time. ''What am I supposed to see here, exactly?''

''Just wait! In a moment–''

He got cut off when a man suddenly appeared in the middle of the room, looking quite disheveled and out of breath. His hair was sticking up in all directions, not much unlike Mathias' hairstyle. His clothes were ragged and even looked burned in some places. ''Mathias,'' he said monotonously, pointing his finger at the Dane. ''Next time you go and do the first test run yourself.''

He let his hand fall limply to his side and promptly sat down on the floor. Mathias rushed to him immediately and the two began speaking in hushed tones. Gilbert stood awkwardly in the door opening. ''Er… Guys? What happened? You okay?''

Mathias looked up with a surprised expression, as if he'd just remembered that Gilbert was still with them in the room. ''Oh! Yeah, of course,'' he said with a smile, a slight tremble in his voice. ''Lukas here is just a bit tired, is all. Right, Lukas?''

The man in question glared at Mathias for a moment and then focused on Gilbert. ''Are you traveling with the MTTD today?''

''That was the plan,'' Gilbert answered.

''Don't use this one,'' Lukas said, pointing to the device next to him on the ground.

Mathias took the device and walked towards the table, muttering under his breath. He threw the MTTD on the table between all the other devices and objects and began to frantically scribble on a piece of paper.

''What's wrong with it?'' Gilbert asked.

Mathias didn't seem to hear him and continued his muttering. ''Should've known… Boss always wants to have his way… Too dangerous…''

Gilbert decided that the best course of action at this point would be to silently disappear without meddling with the others' business.

On his way back to the office, he quite literally ran into Roderich, who just rounded the corner.

''Ah! I'm so sorry! I was about to…'' The Austrian trailed off when he saw who he'd just bumped into. ''Gilbert?''

Gilbert straightened himself and swallowed. ''Hi.''

Roderich frowned and adjusted his glasses. ''I thought you were– Never mind… Did you get an MTTD?''

''Oh, right… I don't think–''

''I'll go and get it myself,'' Roderich sighed, walking along. ''Wait for me in the office, please.''

Gilbert shrugged and did as he was told. Although he'd never openly admit it, he knew that Roderich could handle most situations.

The man proved him right by returning with an MTTD a few minutes later. ''Always a chaos downstairs…'' he mumbled, setting the right time on the device.

''So, where are we traveling today?'' Gilbert asked, curiously.

Roderich paused to glare at him. ''Do you ever read your mail, Gilbert? Today we'll be going to the Renaissance. We'll be focusing on the power of art and the power of the state and how this influences each other.''

''Finally some action, then? Alright, let's go,'' the Prussian said, watching over Roderich's shoulder as the man pressed the buttons. The next moment the office around them disappeared and they were standing on a square in Italy instead.

''Alright, let's get to business,'' Roderich began, walking towards a street. ''As you see, we're in Florence, the city where the family Medici lived. They ruled Florence throughout the Renaissance, so naturally, they had a major influence on it. Renaissance means 'rebirth', as you might– no, _should_ know by now.''

''Is this the 15th century?''

''It is indeed. The Medici was a banking family, political dynasty and later royal house. They were very wealthy and therefore they could afford it to pay artists for commissions for major works of art, also called 'patronage'. It basically means that the family sponsored artists. They also supported scientific efforts like Gallileo's.''

They halted before a building. ''Palazzo Medici, right?'' Gilbert asked.

''Yes,'' Roderich said, turning around to look at the man. ''You know about it?''

''I think Feliciano sent me a photo of this building on a postcard once,'' Gilbert grinned. ''He told me something about the architecture. What was it again…''

''Maybe that–''

''No, no, wait! It's on the tip of my tongue,'' Gilbert cut him off. ''Er… I know that there's a courtyard with a chapel and a garden. The chapel's walls are decorated with fresco's from… Benozzo Gozzoli, I think. There's also statues and… stuff. Oh, and it was built around 1444.''

Roderich hummed in approval, a corner of his mouth tugging upwards. ''Well, you're right about that. The architect of this building was Michelozzo di Bartolommeo and he was asked to design the building by Cosimo de' Medici, who was head of the family at that time. The architecture you're talking about is the tripartite elevation. You see, the three floors all have different decoration. They represent rationality, order and classicism on human scale.''

Gilbert pouted. ''I knew that.''

''No, you didn't, but you made a great effort,'' Roderich said, not unkindly. ''Let's move on, shall we?''

Gilbert slouched behind Roderich as they walked towards their next destination. ''Do you know what Francesco Petrarca wrote about the Renaissance?'' the Prussian asked, hoping to impress the man with his knowledge.

''Yes, but please, do enlighten me,'' Roderich smirked, wiping the grin off of Gilbert's face.

He glared at him. ''No need to be that arrogant about it, Specs. Contrary to what you might think, I do know some historical stuff. Now, as I was saying, Petrarca was aware of the fact that the Dark Ages were ending and something new was coming. He said: 'When the darkness has been dispersed, out descendants can come again in the former pure radiance.' Meaning, he knew that a change was coming.''

''True. Do you also know what work illustrates this change the best?'' Roderich asked.

''Er… Giotto's 'Lamentation', maybe? Also called 'The Mourning of Christ'. That painting differs from other works from that time because the figures are clearly three-dimensional, have different faces and gestures and their clothes are much more realistic. It has aspects of both the Gothic and the Byzantine and Giotto uses foreshortening. Also, some figures have their backs towards the observer, creating the illusion of space.''

The Austrian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. ''Have you been brushing up on your history?''

Gilbert blushed and looked away. ''Maybe…''

''Who would have thought…'' Roderich mumbled, amused. ''Alright, do you know anything about the architecture around this time? I mean, we've been walking for a while now and you have to admit that the style is rather eye-catching.''

Gilbert thought for a moment. ''Except for a few names and buildings… I don't really know the details, to be honest. How about this guy… er, what's his name… Brunelesky?''

Roderich let out a chuckle. ''I think you mean Filippo Brunelleschi. What an awful pronunciation.''

''Thanks, Priss,'' Gilbert huffed, rolling his eyes.

Ignoring him, the Austrian continued: ''Brunelleschi is generally well known for developing a technique for linear perspective in art and for building the dome of the Florence Cathedral.'' He pointed to said cathedral that could be seen in the distance. ''He is seen as an artist still profoundly dependent on local forms of architecture and construction, but with a vision of art and science that was based on the humanistic concept of the ideal. Geometric proportions and symmetrical planning, mixed with classical detail was often found in his buildings, like his 'Ospedale degli Innocenti', or 'Foundling Hospital'.''

Gilbert snickered. ''And you said my pronunciation was off…''

Roderich couldn't help but arch an eyebrow. ''I'll have you know that my Italian is perfectly fine, thank you.''

''Whatever,'' Gilbert sighed, sauntering off.

''And where do you think you're going? Our next destination is Vatican City and I happen to have the MTTD right now,'' the Austrian said, motioning for Gilbert to come back. With a very dramatic sigh, just for good measure, the Prussian returned and waited, arms crossed.

''Now, don't pull that face on me,'' Roderich said, frowning. ''I know this isn't the most exiting job sometimes, but we just have to make the best of it.'' He fumbled with the MTTD for a moment. Then the scenery changed and they were in Rome.

''Fine, fine,'' Gilbert grumbled. ''So, Rome. Let me guess, Da Vinci, Rafael and Michelangelo?''

Roderich's jaw dropped. ''How did you know?''

Gilbert gave him a wide grin and started to walk away, shouting over his shoulder: ''I'm just that awesome!'' Little did Roderich know that Gilbert had been looking over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the screen of the MTTD, where the names were listed in plain sight.

Gilbert chuckled to himself.

They walked a little further, taking in their surroundings. The streets were as busy as they had been yesterday, or rather, as they had been centuries ago.

''Let's start with Da Vinci, then,'' Roderich said.

''Oh, but I know a lot about this guy,'' Gilbert said enthusiastically. ''He was considered 'Homo Universalis', or 'Universal Genius', as he had so many talents. This guy was so smart that he invented the parachute, helicopter and tank!''

''Whoa, hold on,'' Roderich interrupted, holding up a finger. ''He made sketches and had certain theories about those things, but he did not actually build them and his sketches differ a great deal from the inventions as we know them in modern times.''

''I know, but that doesn't mean they're not cool,'' Gilbert continued, unfazed. ''Besides, he wasn't only an inventor, but also a scientist and artist. Have you ever seen his sketches? I believe Luddy had a poster of the Vitruvian Man once. You know, the one with all the arms and legs in a circle?''

''Yes, that's a study of the proportions of the human body,'' Roderich said. ''But you're forgetting his paintings, like 'The Last Supper'. Painted in the 1490s, and special because it has great characterization and design.''

''That's the one you come up with? I mean, I know it's famous, but what about the 'Mona Lisa'?''

Roderich had to give him that one. ''Yes, the 'Mona Lisa' is probably the most famous painting in the world. Giorgio Vasari, who wrote 'Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects', said that the Mona Lisa was supposed to be as realistic as possible. He also said that Da Vinci was a genius, but that he could never finish a work once he'd started it.''

''Vasari?'' Gilbert asked. ''He was the one to write the first book on art history, right?''

''The ideological foundation of the genre, yes.''

''Can't impress me with your prissy words, Specs. What's next?''

Roderich squinted at the MTTD. ''Michelangelo. Da Vinci lived from 1452 to 1519 and Michelangelo from 1475 to 1564. Raphael comes after that, since he lived from 1483 to 1520.''

Gilbert could finally see where they were walking towards. ''The Sistine Chapel? Can we get a look at the ceiling? That's where Michelangelo painted episodes from the Book of Genesis. There's also 'The Last Judgment' and a lot of–''

''Actually,'' Roderich cut him off, ''Although I do appreciate your enthusiasm, we're here to take a look at the St. Peter's Square.''

''Okay,'' Gilbert said, shrugging. ''Architect was Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the square was redesigned from 1656 to 1667 so everyone could see the pope giving his blessing from wherever they stood and the colonnades are made so they look like the 'maternal arms of Mother Church','' he said, counting of from his fingers and not once pausing to breathe.

Then he crossed his arms and looked at Roderich, a quasi-bored expression on his face. He'd never let the man know that he'd been reading art-historical books the night before. ''So what's next?'' he asked, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.

Roderich was still staring at him, his mouth slightly open.

''What?'' Gilbert smirked, an eyebrow arched.

Roderich blinked a couple of times, abruptly snapped his mouth shut and started blushing furiously. ''Nothing. Let's move on.'' He stalked off towards a more crowded area. Gilbert laughed and followed him, not caring about the fact that he was technically bumping into everyone. He was going straight through them anyway.

''So,'' he said, rather loudly, throwing an arm around the Austrian. ''Raphael is last, right?''

Roderich froze and cleared his throat. ''Y-yes.''

Gilbert waited. When Roderich didn't elaborate, he took the MTTD out of the man's hands and looked at the screen. ''Yup!''

''Right,'' Roderich said, straightening himself. ''Raphael.''

''His full name was Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, right?'' Gilbert prompted.

''Yes. How- how do you know all this, Gilbert?''

Gilbert shrugged and decided to confuse the man even further. ''Like you said, I seemed to have brushed up on my history. I can also tell you that his work is admired for its clarity of form and ease of composition. He used Da Vinci's pyramidal composition for subjects of the Holy family, like in Madonna of the Meadow. He also painted the famous 'School of Athens' and his art was considered to be perfect. Even Vasari wrote that 'Mother Nature died with him'.''

Truth be told, he was quite proud of himself for his newly gained knowledge and was eager to share it. When he turned around to look at Roderich, however, he couldn't spot him in the crowd anymore.

''Roddy?'' he called out, but quickly got shushed by a bystander. He stopped dead in his tracks. ''Excuse me?'' he asked the man, who was ''…''.

'' _I told you to keep it down_ ,'' he said in Italian, obviously irritated. Gilbert couldn't understand a word he was saying, but he knew that something was very wrong here.

They shouldn't be able to see him.

He could feel the eyes of the townspeople on him and started to walk away from the crowd, towards a dark alley where he would be able to hide. Some people were mumbling, pointing at him, and he knew how out of place he looked, with his clothes from the 21st century and his albino appearance.

As he turned around the corner, he bumped right into something – or rather someone. ''S-scusi,'' he muttered and made to move on, but a strong hand on his shoulder stopped him. A tall man loomed over him, two others standing right behind him.

'' _You're not from around here, are you?_ '' the man said, then to the guys behind him: '' _Maybe he's got some valuables on him. Go check it_.''

Before he knew it, the man had twisted his arm behind his back and he gritted his teeth to stifle a cry. The other two were with him in a moment, checking Gilbert's pockets for anything valuable.

''Hey! Get your filthy hands off of me!'' he shouted, trying to kick at the men. The man let go of his arm and shoved him roughly against the wall instead. Gilbert glared up at him as he struggled against the strong grip.

'' _You shut your mouth or else–_ '' he got cut off as Gilbert brought up his knee and slammed it into the man's stomach. The man gasped and let go of him. Unfortunately, one of the other guys pushed him to the ground immediately. As he fell onto the dirty street, he saw a glimmer out of the corner of his eye. The man as holding a knife.

In an instant he was on his feet again, looking for a way to escape. Before he could do anything, though, the man had moved and he felt a sharp pain in his side that brought him to the ground again with a startled cry.

He gasped and tried to cover the stab wound with his hands, giving the men all the space they needed to empty his pockets. For some reason all that Gilbert could think of was that they would have no use for the modern things and that it would only cause them a lot of confusion.

He heard them talking above him for a moment and eventually their footsteps retreated. He was left alone in the alley.

He didn't know how long he'd been lying there in the dirt, gasping and clutching his bleeding side, but after a while he heard someone call him. In fact, judging by the rather loud volume it sounded like they were right next to him. They were shaking his shoulder, too.

''Roddy, 's that you?'' he slurred, lifting up his head. A pair of purple eyes were worriedly staring back at him.

''Oh, thank goodness,'' Roderich cried, relieved. ''I didn't know what to– I mean, it must have been a glitch or something! I'm going to kill Mathias… I was right next to you the whole time, but I couldn't– I saw them and I saw you but I couldn't do anything and I mean you just–''

''Roderich, hey,'' Gilbert mumbled. ''It's fine now. We'll… deal with it later. Okay?''

Roderich took a deep, shaky breath. ''You're right. We need to get back.''

''Good idea,'' the Prussian groaned. ''I-if this thing glitches that easily…'' He tried to stand up, using the wall to steady him and wincing at the pain in his side. He could feel Roderich's eyes on him, sharp and concerned.

It took Gilbert a moment to realize that his vision had blurred and blackened. He was falling before he could reach out. Then arms were suddenly around his middle. He heard a grunt in his ear as they gripped him tight, straining, the strength holding him still unable to keep his backside from the ground.

The white noise began to clear, just a little, letting in incomprehensible words. He was lying on the ground, the stones cold and hard against the back of his head, and there were hands on his face, so warm in contrast.

''Gilbert, can you hear me?''

He opened his eyes, then shut them again, groaning a positive reply.

''Gil, stay with me. You'll be alright. Shit, I have to stop the bleeding…''

Gilbert frowned, finding it hard to think.

''We're going back, immediately. Hang in there.''

Within moments, the street had disappeared and he was lying on the office floor instead. He heard Roderich talk to someone on the phone. Or was he talking to him now? He felt warm hands putting pressure on his aching side.

The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Roderich's panicked expression above him.

* * *

 _Sources_

 _My notes_

 _Algemene Kunstgeschiedenis – Hugh Honour & John Fleming_

 _Several Wikipedia sites_

 _Cracked dot com_

 _History dot com_

 _HistoryLearningSite dot co dot uk_

 _History dot com/topics/renaissance-art_

 _Britannica dot com/art_

 _VisitFlorence dot com_

 _Archaeology-travel dot com_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, not to me.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

''I still don't think this is a good idea,'' Roderich said, trying to be stern, although he was sure his concern for the other man was clearly visible in his eyes.

Gilbert shrugged. ''They said I was allowed to go back to work as long as I took it easy, so…''

Roderich sighed. ''If you're sure… But we'll go right back if there's anything–''

''Yes, Roddy,'' Gilbert reassured the man. ''Don't worry so much. It'll be fine.''

He picked up the MTTD from his desk with a smirk. ''I take it this one isn't a test model?''

Roderich blushed when he thought about what had happened about a week prior. When he'd gone down to the workplace to get the device, there hadn't been anybody there. He'd just assumed that the MTTD on the table was working correctly and took it with him to the office: a foolish mistake.

The question here wasn't _why_ the MTTD had glitched, but why it had glitched _like that_. Gilbert had actually traveled back in time while he himself could only watch, like an invisible hologram. Although he wasn't able to actually do anything, he felt very guilty because of what happened to Gilbert. If he hadn't picked up that particular MTTD that morning, the man would not have been hurt.

The situation did raise some thoughts. Their secret organization only existed to correct the mistakes made in the notation of history. Clearly, someone within their organization wanted to mess with time, which was strictly forbidden and not even thought possible in the first place. He wondered who'd given the order to develop such a device…

''No need to dwell on it, Specs,'' Gilbert said, as if reading his mind. ''We've already been over it and you don't need to beat yourself up like that. It happened. We'll find out who did it another time. Now, let's get to work.''

Roderich ran a hand through his hair. ''Right. Where are we traveling today?''

Gilbert blinked. ''Never thought you'd be the one to ask that question.''

''It shouldn't be a surprise. After all, I had other things on my mind.''

Gilbert glanced at him, before turning his attention back to the MTTD. ''We're off to France. Luckily, I know something about that. I spend way too much of my time with Francis,'' he muttered. He pressed the touchscreen of the device, the view of their office changing into that of the sky: they were outside. All around them were straight paths, plants, flowers and hedges, all trimmed with the utmost care and stretching as far as they could see. At the end of the path they were standing on, a palace was visible, perfectly symmetrical and glowing in the morning sun.

''Versailles?'' Roderich asked, taking in the impressive sight before them.

Gilbert nodded. ''Yep. Today's all about the French Baroque, which was from 1600 to about 1750, if I'm correct. That there is the palace of Louis the Fourteenth, as you've probably guessed already. Looks quite like it does in our time, doesn't it? Although we're in a year around 1700 or something, not much has changed on these grounds… Except for all the tourists, of course.'' He clasped his hands together behind his back and started walking slowly towards the building, Roderich walking next to him.

''I visited this place with Francis once, since he's quite fond of the palace,'' Gilbert continued. ''He told me a lot about the gardens, as well. As you see, they're perfectly symmetrical and, well, enormous. All straight lines and patterns. They were made that way to show the people how much power the king had. You could say that the state order was mirrored in the gardens, as well as in the palace, by the way. You'll see.''

Roderich followed along, looking up at the palace as they got closer

They stopped just before the palace. ''Yep,'' Gilbert said. ''Things changed, not only in France. The difference between the Renaissance and the Baroque is that in the Renaissance, everything had to be pretty and beautiful. In the Baroque, Hellenism gets more appreciation and art gets more dynamic and exciting.''

''What do you mean?'' Roderich asked. ''Exciting?''

Gilbert hummed in thought. ''Take Bernini's statue of David for example. He captured the moment in which David throws the stone to Goliath, instead of making him static. You can see the movement in the folds and creases of his clothes. The art wants to let the observer feel the moment.''

Roderich nodded in understanding and walked towards the entrance. The whole palace was built for the king, who stayed in the center. Even the paths of the gardens led to it. ''I heard that king Louis never saw the palace ready, because he always had new ideas for building or rebuilding, so it was always under construction until his death.''

''Yeah. He wanted to leave something glamorous to the next generations, something that showed his greatness and power,'' Gilbert added. ''I'd say he managed to do that quite well.''

Gilbert walked up to a nearby door, which was already open, and made an exaggerated bow. ''After you.''

The Austrian huffed, but walked inside anyway, immediately spotting a harpsichord in the room. Gilbert appeared next to him a moment later, still chipper. ''Ah, music! That's your forte, Specs.''

Roderich walked closer to the instrument, his hands itching to play, although he knew they'd go right through them if he tried. ''Alright, then. Most of the music in this time was commissioned. The man who dominated the French music scene in the Baroque was Jean-Baptiste Lully, born in 1632. He was an excellent dancer and so was the king, and they even performed together, as you should know if you've ever seen the movie 'Le Roi Danse'. Dance and music were very important those days and they all got incorporated in those kind of plays and operas. Anyway, king Louis appointed Lully as his 'compositeur de la musique instrumentale de Roi'.''

''Pardon my French, but damn, your pronunciation sucks,'' Gilbert snickered.

Roderich straightened himself and glared at the man, clenching his fists. ''Well, at least I've actually got knowledge about the music in this period.'' He made to walk away, his arms crossed. ''And it's not that bad!'' he snapped.

''I know, I know,'' Gilbert smirked, moving quickly to catch up with him, slightly out of breath. ''I was just teasing. Come on, Roddy, you know me by now.''

Roderich sighed. ''Right.''

They walked out of the room and continued their way along a corridor, their reflection showing on the floor beneath their feet. Glancing into open doorways, they could see silver furniture, richly decorated walls, statues, paintings, and big chandeliers. It was things like this that made Roderich truly love his job, even if he had to keep it a secret from society.

Of course, they weren't alone. They came across a lot of people, most of them servants, naturally. Gilbert was eager to translate some of the French he understood, unaware of the fact that Roderich was able to understand them quite well himself. Still, he let the man be enthusiastic about his knowledge and hummed in approval when he translated a sentence correctly. Well, almost.

After a while, they came across a large gallery with high mirrors that reflected the gardens, visible through the high windows.

''The Hall of Mirrors,'' Roderich announced, looking up. ''On the ceiling you can see the history of wars, pictured like they did in the classical mythology. You can see the king's political policies and military victories, painted by Charles Le Brun. He was the court painter of king Louis and he once declared him as 'the greatest French artist of all time'.''

He turned around and looked at Gilbert, who had already walked towards the end of the hall, to the War Salon, where he'd sat down on the floor. Roderich couldn't help but think he looked a little tired.

''This place is pretty awesome,'' the Prussian said when Roderich joined him, although the latter preferred to stay standing. Gilbert pointed at a grand relief of king Louis on a horseback, defeating his enemies.

''That one is made by Antoine Coysevox and the decorations that all are over the room were made by Le Brun. Also,'' he added, pointing at the painted ceiling far above him. ''That's made by Le Brun, as well. It's all about victories here, too. The lion that's upside down represents Holland; the roaring lion is Spain and the kneeling eagle is Germany, all countries France defeated…'' He frowned. ''The last one depicts the goddess of war in a rage between the symbols of rebellion and discord.''

Roderich frowned as well. ''You really spend way too much of your time with Francis…''

Gilbert looked at him and grinned. ''I know right? Thought you'd be happy I finally know stuff.''

The Austrian cleared his throat. ''Oh, I am, don't worry about that. I just didn't expect… all this.''

Gilbert shrugged, stood up and took the MTTD out of his pocket. ''What can I say? I'm full of surprises.'' He pressed a few buttons and grimaced, showing Roderich the device. ''Seems like we're done here.''

It turned out that their next destination would be England, around 1600. ''Is this about theater?'' Roderich asked.

Gilbert sighed, nodded and pressed the button. The palace disappeared and they were standing on a street in London instead. It was quite busy and most people seemed to be going in the same direction. ''Well, then, let's follow them,'' Gilbert said, starting to walk.

Quickly, Roderich grabbed him by the wrist, causing the other to stop and turn around, surprised. Roderich, startled by his own actions, let go of him immediately, blushing slightly. ''Sorry. I-I just– Let's not lose each other in the crowd.''

Gilbert stared at him.

''Like last time,'' Roderich added, looking away. Gilbert's mouth opened slightly in understanding and he nodded, patting the man's shoulder in a desperate attempt to make things less awkward. ''Sure thing, Roddy.''

They walked slowly, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. Roderich was happy to break through it once he saw what they were walking towards. ''The Globe Theatre.''

He glanced sideways and saw Gilbert looking a bit relieved, just like he felt. He continued. ''It was built in 1599 using timber from an earlier theater, 'The Theatre'. This new one went up in flames in 1613 during a performance of Henry VIII, because a cannon misfired. It was rebuilt in the following year.''

They stopped for a moment to look at the wooden building, a three-story, open-air amphitheater. ''It could house up to three thousand spectators, right?'' Gilbert asked.

''Yes,'' Roderich answered while they walked through the entrance. ''The poor would have to stand in the middle, just in the open, while the rich had actual seats and a roof above their heads. I wonder what play they'll be performing today…''

''Where's Arthur when you need him,'' Gilbert muttered.

Roderich continued to ponder. ''Probably Shakespeare. I mean, I don't think there's anyone, in our time or in this one, who hasn't heard of Shakespeare. Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth… All of his works are very famous. He used clever jokes and characters acting… well, just silly, really. He entertained all of the audience that way, both the rich, educated people and the poor.''

He noticed Gilbert had stopped walking and was leaning against a nearby wall, watching the people taking their seats or standing in front of the stage, their chatter full of excitement. His hand was resting on his side.

''Are you alright?'' Roderich asked, placing a hand on his arm to get his attention.

Gilbert turned to him. ''Yeah, I'm fine,'' he said, although his breathing seemed to be a bit strained.

Roderich looked at him sternly. ''You said you'd tell me if you–''

''Roddy, I'm not dying or anything,'' Gilbert interrupted him, rolling his eyes. He grimaced and sighed. ''I don't want to go back now and be useless for the rest of the day. We can just finish up here and–''

''There's plenty of things you can do at the office. You're not useless in any way, Gilbert.''

Gilbert's eyes darted to the stage again and he bit his lip. ''Fine,'' he said reluctantly, his voice barely audible above all the noise.

Roderich gently took the MTTD from him and the next moment they were standing in the office again. Gilbert sat down in his desk chair, wincing with the movement.

''The only thing left for today would have been the Netherlands,'' Roderich said, looking at their schedule. ''If you feel up to it, you can tackle the research paper on Orientalism. I'm sure the people here are willing to help you. Just stay out of trouble.''

Gilbert huffed, but nodded anyway. ''Yeah, I'll ask around and others can do the actual traveling.'' He sighed again.

Roderich straightened himself. ''I'll go and see if there's anyone else available for traveling at our department, so we can finish the report for today. I'm sure your brother will understand.''

He adjusted his glasses and glanced at Gilbert, who was shuffling around some papers on his desk. He looked miserable.

''Cheer up, Gilbert,'' Roderich tried, feeling bad for the Prussian. He patted the man's shoulder, mirroring Gilbert's action earlier. ''Rest up, get a start at that paper and I'll see you later, alright? It's okay.''

''Yeah,'' Gilbert mumbled. ''See you later, Roddy.''

* * *

It turned out that both Feliks and Toris were already busy, so when Roderich knocked on the door of Lovino and Antonio's office, dreading to ask either one of them to go with him, he was surprised when the door flew open and Antonio was pushed outside, almost knocking him over.

''Go and find something else to do, bastard!'' Lovino yelled, slamming the door behind him.

Antonio let out a sound of defeat and slumped against the door. ''Well, that could've gone better…''

''Trouble?'' Roderich asked, raising an eyebrow sarcastically.

Antonio glared at him, which he found very uncharacteristically of the man. The Spaniard seemed to collect himself and his expression changed into one of curiosity. ''Did you come here for a particular reason?''

''Yes. I need someone to travel with so I can finish a certain report that was due a few days ago…'' Roderich said, trailing off. He suddenly wasn't so keen on taking the happy-go-lucky Spaniard with h–

''Oh, I'll go with you!'' Antonio said, smiling again. Of course.

Roderich tried to put on a smile. ''Thank you, Antonio. It's not that much work, so it shouldn't take too long.''

''No problem! Glad to be able to help,'' Antonio said, following Roderich to an empty office, which quickly made place for a spacious square in the middle of a city, once Roderich had pressed the button on the MTTD.

''I've always wondered what MTTD stands for,'' Antonio said while looking at the busy streets around them.

Roderich sighed. ''Mean Time To Death,'' he mumbled, turning away from the man to take in his surroundings. Looking at the people, their clothes and the buildings around them, it wasn't hard to figure out they were in the Golden Age, in the center of Amsterdam.

To his side, he heard Antonio curse, which made him turn to look at him and ask what was wrong.

''I'm not that fond of the Netherlands, really,'' Antonio confessed, grimacing.

Roderich threw up his hands. ''You volunteered to go with me! And what's wrong with the Netherlands anyway?''

''Well, they didn't like Spain, that's for sure. And the boss is Dutch…'' he added under his breath.

Roderich's shoulders sagged a little. It wasn't as if they all despised their boss, but he certainly wasn't a pleasant man. His temper often got the better of him and him firing people without warning wasn't an uncommon thing within their organization…

On second thought, they did despise their boss.

''Still,'' he retorted. ''The Netherlands itself is a nice country. The only thing we need to do here is collect information on the culture, politics and the city hall.''

He started walking across the square, Antonio slouching behind him. They stopped in front of said city hall, its shadow casting over them.

''Okay, let's get this over with,'' Roderich said. ''We are standing in front of the city hall in Amsterdam. The building itself is built in the classical style, by the architect Jacob van Kampen. It has got quite a few statues on the outside, like the personifications of peace, trade, wisdom, justice and vigilance. On the roof stands Atlas, carrying the globe as a symbol for the power of Amsterdam in the world. On the tympanon above us you can see the patroness of Amsterdam with the continents at her feet.''

Antonio sighed. ''Can we go in?''

Roderich motioned for him to do so, speaking while entering the building. ''The seven arches we're currently walking under are a symbol for the seven regions of the Netherlands.''

As Antonio shrugged and walked along, Roderich couldn't help but think of Gilbert, who probably would've made either a joke or an insult towards Roderich by now.

They halted when they'd reached a hall with a very peculiar floor. In it were three circles, two with maps of the world and one with a map of the stars. ''Quite literally having the world at your feet,'' Antonio said.

Roderich nodded. ''Yes, the people liked to emphasize how important Amsterdam was. You know how the Netherlands had seven regions? They all had sovereignty. As you can clearly see around us, Amsterdam was the economical center of it all.''

Sensing that Antonio wasn't really interested, Roderich changed the topic. ''Ever heard of the tulip mania?''

To his surprise, Antonio nodded. ''Yeah, that's when the tulip bulbs became ridiculously expensive, right? They became a status symbol or something and the prices went through the roof.''

Roderich raised an eyebrow, thinking of how Lovino was always complaining that his traveling partner 'didn't know shit'. ''Indeed. Lovino should appreciate your knowledge more often.''

Antonio turned around and laughed sheepishly. ''Well, I let him do most of the talking, since I like his voice so much!''

Roderich huffed, but a little smirk crept onto his face. ''Just the wrong impression, then.''

He motioned for them to walk on, towards a hall where lots of paintings were decorating the walls. ''In the Golden age, there was an enormous output of paintings,'' he began. ''So much that the prices drastically declined, unlike the tulips. They strayed from the Baroque style after the 1620s and had a more realistic style of depiction, very much concerned with the real world.''

Antonio walked around the room, looking at the various paintings, all fairly big. He didn't look too enthusiastic with them, though.

''There were historical paintings, portraiture, landscapes, still lifes and genre paintings,'' Roderich continued. ''These genre paintings depicted aspects of everyday life by portraying ordinary people engaged in common activities.''

Antonio still looked uninterested, which started to get on Roderich's nerves.

''I wish I could do this with Lovi,'' Antonio whined, quite suddenly.

Roderich let out an irritated gasp. ''Yes, well, I wish I could do this with Gilbert instead of with you, but we can't all have what we want, now, can we?'' Roderich said, infuriated with the other man. He took a steadying breath. ''Anyway, we're done here. Let's go back.''

Within seconds they were back in the office. Roderich noticed Antonio looking at him with a peculiar expression he couldn't quite place. ''What is it?''

''Did you mean that?'' Antonio asked. ''You wish you could've done this with Gilbert? He always tells me you're annoyed by him.''

Roderich opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and finally settled on: ''Well, he's better than you at any rate!''

He then decided to storm out of the door and only stopped once he was safe inside his own office, where no one would be able to see him blush…

* * *

Gilbert was strolling through headquarters, occasionally sitting down when his side began to ache. He'd been eager to go back to work as soon as he was discharged from the hospital. He liked his job, even if he was always pretending not to. He got along fine with most of his colleagues and liked to travel, especially when visiting ages that had a lot of action.

As he entered the lower workfloor, he spotted his friend Francis at his desk, typing away at his computer. He quietly sneaked up to him and put his hands on the man's shoulders, causing him to let out a shriek of surprise. '' _Merde!_ Gilbert, I told you not to do that anymore!''

Gilbert cracked a grin, sitting down in another desk chair and rolling it over to him. ''You also told me not to steal your coffee anymore, but guess what?'' he said, grabbing Francis' cup from his desk and rolling the chair back to its original position, where it would be just out of reach for the other man.

Francis sighed. However, the corners of his mouth turned up. ''How are you holding up, Gil? You're not already done, are you?'' he asked, glancing at his watch.

Gilbert took a sip of the coffee. ''Nah, I gotta write a thing on Orientalism while Specs is off visiting the Netherlands.''

Francis hummed and folded his hands under his chin. ''The Netherlands, hm?''

The Prussian grimaced. ''Yeah, I think he went with Toni.''

''I see,'' Francis replied, his eyes twinkling. He waited a few moments, before asking, ''I take it you rather would have gone with him?''

Gilbert sat still for a beat, then turned to narrow his eyes at Francis. ''Yes, because it's my job,'' he said, slowly. ''Not because of… you know, any of your stupid ideas.'' He waved his hand about as to brush Francis off.

The Frenchman let out a chuckle and took in Gilbert's appearance. Francis was actually glad that the man had stolen his coffee: he looked like he needed it.

''So,'' he began, his expression kind. ''Anything I can help with? What's this about Orientalism?''

Gilbert sighed, glad to have a different topic. ''You tell me. Roddy told me to ask around.''

''Well, I can try,'' Francis said, smiling. ''As you can probably guess, Orientalism is a term that we use for the depiction of aspects in the Orient, or the Middle East. However, these are usually made by Western artists. Wait, let me look this up for you,'' he added, turning to his computer and opening a folder of pictures.

Gilbert rolled over his chair, so he could have a better look at the screen. After some concentrated scrolling, Francis clicked on a picture of a painting. No surprise there.

''Here. This is a perfect example,'' Francis said, pointing at the screen. ''The Death of Sardanapalus, by Eugène Delacroix. Western people had a particular view on the East, mostly because of the way the three magi in nativity scenes were depicted. Their clothes were colorful and often decorated with gold, as you can see here,'' he said, moving his cursor over some of the people on the painting and the garments around them.

''They often got scimitars, turbans, and sometimes there's a snorting horse on the painting, see?'' he asked, zooming in on the animal on the left. ''That's to depict the wild temperament of the Eastern folks.''

''Isn't that kinda racist?'' Gilbert asked, wrinkling his nose.

''Maybe, but it was very normal in that time,'' Francis replied with a wave of his hand. ''The architecture was also very Eastern-like. All colorful patterns and lots of arches.''

He closed the picture and opened another, this time one of a naked woman, a dark blue and gold curtain draped behind her.

''Grande Odalisque, by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, made in 1814,'' Francis read from the screen. ''These women were often painted like this and they were called odalisques.''

''Right, and now in English, please,'' Gilbert said, frowning.

Francis smirked. ''Basically a woman in a harem.''

''Oh.'' Gilbert blinked, then shrugged. ''Okay.''

Francis turned his chair to face Gilbert and clasped his hands together. ''Conclusion! Western people see the Orient as something mysterious, maybe somewhat flirtatious and sensual, but also wild and dangerous, depicting this with lots of patterns, decorations and beautiful women,'' he said in one breath. He looked at Gilbert, whose mouth was hanging slightly open. ''Got what you need?''

Gilbert closed his eyes for a brief moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. ''Think so. Thanks, Franny,'' he said, standing up from his chair. ''I should go back and write all of that shit down,'' he sighed.

Francis nodded and gave him a sad smile. ''Take that with you,'' he said, nodding his head towards his cup of coffee.

Gilbert lifted it up as a way of saying thanks, sighed, and began walking towards the stairs.

''Gilbert?''

He stopped and turned back at Francis, who was eying him with a caring expression, ever so perceptive. ''I'll be here if you need me.''

Gilbert put on a smile and gave him a curt nod. ''Thanks,'' he said, his voice more quiet than he would've liked.

On the way back to his office, he realized he'd already forgotten most of what Francis told him. After all, he had other things on his mind.

* * *

 _Sources_

 _My notes_

 _Algemene Kunstgeschiedenis – Hugh Honour & John Fleming_

 _Several Wikipedia sites_

 _En dot chateauversailles dot fr/discover/history#louis-xiii-and-versailles_

 _Encyclopedia dot com_

 _William-shakespeare dot info/william-shakespeare-globe-theatre dot htm_

 _Eh dot net/encyclopedia/the-dutch-economy-in-the-golden-age-16th-17th-centuries/_

 _Arabstereotypes dot org/why-stereotypes/what-orientalism_

* * *

 ** _If there's anyone who'd like to read about what happened inbetween this chapter and the previous one, please let me know. I might write an extra chapter._**

 ** _Thank you for reading and reviewing this story so far. I've gone back and edited the previous chapters, but no major changes were made. I mainly fixed some spelling and grammar mistakes. ;)_**

 ** _See ya next chapter!_**


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